The Ghost and the Silver Scream Page 22

  “Why are you down here?” Danielle asked.

  “I keep having these flashes—visions, sort of. Where Teddy and I are in the basement,” Polly explained.

  “I told her she’s just stressed after all that’s gone on the last few days. It’s enough to make anyone start imagining things,” Julius said. “And with Teddy going AWOL, her mind is seeing all sorts of crazy things.”

  “You do look tired, Polly. Maybe you should go upstairs and take a nap?” Danielle suggested.

  Absently combing her fingers through her short dark hair, Polly nodded in agreement. “My head is killing me.”

  “Let’s get you upstairs,” Julius suggested.

  When they turned to leave and Danielle didn’t follow them, Julius stopped a moment and looked at Danielle. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I came down here to find something.” She pointed to a stack of boxes on the far wall. “I think it’s in one of those.”

  Julius gave her a nod and then continued up the stairs with Polly, Eva trailing behind them.

  Listening to their fading footsteps, Danielle rushed up the stairs and peeked out into the narrow hallway. She didn’t see them. Returning to the basement, she looked at Marie and said, “Keep an eye out for anyone. I’d rather not have to explain why I’m opening the tunnel.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Marie asked.

  “I’m torn between wanting to find something to help end this mystery—and hoping there is nothing there.”

  After Marie left to stand guard, Danielle removed the key from the hook and opened the first door. She pulled it all the way open, to allow light in the opening, when she remembered the cellphone she had tucked in her back pocket. Removing the phone from her pocket, she turned on its flashlight app, preparing to unlock the second doorway.

  Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that if she found Teddy behind the door, it was only a body. Only a body, I have become jaded, she told herself. Setting the phone on the floor for a moment, she unlocked the second padlock and removed it from the door. Placing the lock on the floor and picking up the cellphone, she pulled open the second door. As she remembered, it did not move easily, but she managed to pull it open.

  Even with both doors open and the overhead light on in the basement, it was still difficult to see in the passageway without a flashlight. Shining the cellphone’s light into the opening, she let out a gasp. There was Teddy; at least she assumed it was him. His crumpled body had been shoved into the opening, and while she could not make a positive identification from this angle, she was fairly certain it was him.

  Lifting the cellphone a little higher, trying to see farther in the opening to get a better look at the corpse, Danielle let out a second gasp. Teddy was not alone. If Danielle was not mistaken, that was Phoebe with him.

  Not bothering to close or relock the second door, she left it open and closed the first door, relocking it. She didn’t need anyone in there until the police arrived. Tucking the padlock key into her pocket with her cellphone, she hastily told Marie what she had found, before sprinting up the stairs to get Walt before calling the chief.

  Pearl Huckabee stood at the upstairs corner window of her bedroom, binoculars in hand, watching the spectacle below. The police cars had showed up at Marlow House several hours earlier, followed by two official-looking vans. Holding the binoculars to her eyes, she peered out the window and watched as not one—but two bodies were being carried out of the house. She was fairly certain they were dead bodies and not some injured guests, considering the sheets covering whomever they were carrying out.

  She watched as one of the guests, a woman with short dark hair, was being put in the back of a squad car. “Are they arresting her?” she wondered.

  Danielle and Walt stood together on the sidewalk in front of their house. Walt’s arm wrapped protectively around Danielle’s shoulders as the police car drove away with Polly in the back seat. Their remaining guests stood some distance away, huddled together and out of earshot.

  “They said she wasn’t under arrest,” Walt told Danielle. “But she knew where he was.”

  “What I find interesting was how she kept yelling she hadn’t killed Phoebe. Does that mean she did kill Teddy?” Danielle asked.

  Looking over to their remaining guests huddled together, Walt said, “I wonder if they will find any of their prints?” The police were just finishing processing the scene, looking for evidence.

  “I would assume the killer wore gloves,” Danielle said.

  “You think it’s Polly?” Walt asked.

  “If it is, she obviously wants to get caught. But with her reaction to finding Phoebe, I don’t know, is she that good an actress?”

  “If it isn’t her, then who?” he asked.

  Danielle looked back to the four remaining suspects. “When I was in the basement earlier, I got the feeling Julius wanted me out of there. But Seraphina has a motive too.”

  “When I was in the library with Jackie and the others, discussing the fate of Moon Runners, I got the feeling she didn’t have a problem moving forward with a new screenwriter and director. I actually got the impression she was somewhat relieved.”

  “And then there is Birdie, but I don’t think she’s physically capable of pulling any of this off. And what is her motive?” Danielle asked.

  “Plus, the way she was talking in the library, she argued rather vehemently against Jackie’s plan to can Teddy.”

  Thirty-Four

  “I did not kill Phoebe!” Polly insisted. She sat in the interrogation room alone with Brian Henderson, while Joe and the chief watched from the adjacent office. If she had started the day with any makeup on, it was gone now. Her once perky haircut fell limp and dull, and her red-rimmed eyes threatened to shed more tears.

  “And your husband?” Brian said.

  “I would never intentionally hurt Teddy.” Polly broke into a sob.

  “Your fingerprints were everywhere. According to Danielle Marlow, the entrance to the tunnel was kept locked, and when she showed it to you, you didn’t go inside. So, can you explain how your fingerprints got in there?”

  Pulling herself together, she wiped her tears on the cuff of her sweater, looked at Brian and sniffed before saying, “I think I’ll stop talking now and speak to my lawyer.”

  Danielle had expected Julius, Jackie or even Seraphina to go down to the police station and give Polly emotional support. After all, Julius and Jackie had been personal and professional friends with the Larimores for a number of years, and Seraphina and Polly had seemed close. When down in the basement with Julius and Polly before discovering the bodies, Julius acted as if the idea of Polly killing her husband was ludicrous. Yet, not now. Now the three acted as if they were convinced she had been responsible for the murders—even Chase’s. Only Birdie seemed unconvinced and kept saying Polly had always been such a sweet girl, she just couldn’t imagine her doing something like that.

  Seraphina looked at Birdie and said, “I don’t want to believe this. I’ve always liked Polly. But she knew where those bodies were. It was as if she wanted to get caught.”

  “And we know, according to the police, someone from this house left in the middle of the night around the time Chase was murdered. I know it wasn’t me or Julius. We never left our room,” Jackie said.

  “And I know it wasn’t me,” Seraphina said.

  “But why kill Chase?” Birdie asked. “I understand Teddy and Phoebe. Crime of passion, it is the oldest motive in the world.”

  “If Polly didn’t kill Chase, then that means one of us did it,” Jackie pointed out.

  Birdie shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. It’s just a horrible coincidence. Someone broke into Chase’s looking for money and drugs. Isn’t that what the police said?”

  They argued for another ten minutes while Walt and Danielle silently listened. Finally, Julius looked at Danielle and asked, “You talked to the police chief. What now? Are they charging Polly with the murde
rs?”

  “I know they’re holding her. She’s asked to see her attorney,” Danielle said.

  “She should have thought about talking to her attorney before running around telling everyone she had visions of killing Teddy,” Jackie said. “Although, maybe she’s going for an insanity defense.”

  “I imagine she called her brother?” Julius asked.

  “Yes,” Danielle said.

  “That’s right, her brother is a criminal attorney,” Birdie said.

  Marie had never expected her time as a ghost to be so fascinating. She had spent her last ten years of her life dependent on her grandson or the generosity of friends to get around to places like the grocery store or doctors’ offices. In fact, doctors’ appointments had comprised the bulk of her social calendar. Despite having to rely on others when running errands, she had much to be grateful for regarding her last years. She was grateful she had been able to enjoy one of her passions—gardening—up until her dying day. Although technically, it was up until she broke her hip, which led to rehab in the care home, which resulted in her murder. But still, she had been able to garden for practically her entire life.

  Despite being dependent on others to get around, she had managed to keep up on the local gossip, typically discovering the most delicious tidbits even before her grandson. It was a talent. But now, her gift for being in the know was supercharged.

  Sitting in the interrogation room with Polly and her brother, Albert Dawson, listening in to their private conversation—one so private even the chief and his officers were not allowed to listen in to—gave her quite the rush. She felt a tad guilty for being so titillated, considering Polly was in a serious pickle, and Marie did like Polly.

  Portland attorney Albert Dawson sat across from his sister, Polly, in the interrogation room, silently listening to her tearful story. When she was done, he asked, “Good lord, Polly, why didn’t you call me right away instead of telling anyone—especially the police chief—that you thought you killed Teddy? Didn’t I grill that into you? Never talk to the cops. Call your attorney first.”

  “I was just so confused, and I didn’t seriously think I had killed him. But now I know…I did kill Teddy.” She broke into tears again. Albert stood up and pushed the box of tissues closer to his sister. Reluctantly she pulled a tissue from the box and then used it to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

  When again composed, she said, “I didn’t kill Phoebe. I promise you that. I didn’t.”

  Marie perched on the table’s edge, looking down at the siblings, listening to Polly’s pitiful tale.

  “How did you not know her body was there?” Albert asked.

  “You don’t believe me?” Polly asked.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I’m trying to understand. How did you not know you killed Teddy—and now you do? How do you hide his body and not see the other one that was already in there?”

  “In her defense, it’s pitch dark in there,” Marie said to deaf ears. “You’d have to see the opening to understand what I mean.”

  “It was all so surreal. Like an out-of-body experience,” Polly explained. “I’d had too much gin.”

  “You can’t drink gin.”

  “I know. But I was so depressed that night, finding out Teddy had a fling with Phoebe—I mean really, Phoebe? The woman was such an obvious user. What was the attraction? It was humiliating. Bad enough he cheated on me, but with her!”

  “For your sake, please do not make those types of comments about Phoebe to anyone else.”

  “Your brother is right, dear,” Marie agreed with a nod. “Does give you a big ol’ motive.”

  “I hated her. Yes, I will admit it. I hated her. I hated her when she cheated with Barry. I never understood why Seraphina would take her back after that. I thought Phoebe wasn’t just Seraphina’s employee, but one of her oldest friends. And then she fools around with her boyfriend! What kind of a friend does that?”

  “Like I said,” Albert said dryly, “please don’t express your feelings about Phoebe with anyone else. But can you tell me, how is it you killed Teddy and didn’t realize it until now?”

  “Yes, please, I want to know that too,” Marie said, yet neither brother nor sister could see or hear her.

  Polly gave a nod, wiped the corners of her eyes with a tissue, sat up straight and then took a deep breath and exhaled. She looked to her brother and said, “Before dinner we had cocktails. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what Phoebe had said. She told me that yes, something had happened between her and Teddy, and that she knew it was my ticket to divorce him and break the conditions of our prenup.”

  “Good lord, did everyone know about the terms of your prenup? Some things should be kept between a husband, wife and their counsel.”

  “I know you think that way. But you know Teddy. When he drinks, he says more than he should.”

  “At least that eliminates your motive for killing Phoebe. Getting her to testify she’d had an affair with Teddy would be more valuable to you than killing her for revenge,” Albert said.

  “That would only work if she’d testify. She made it clear she was willing to tell me the truth—but she would never testify to the fact. She wasn’t going to cross Teddy. She still hoped he would put her in one of his films. I think it gave her some perverse pleasure letting me know she had been with my husband, but I could never divorce him over it—not unless I wanted to lose everything.”

  Albert groaned. “You just gave yourself a whopping motive.”

  “But I didn’t kill her.”

  “Okay,” Albert said with a nod. “Go back to that night again, the last night you saw Teddy. Tell me everything you remember.”

  “Like I was saying, we were having cocktails in the living room at Marlow House. I couldn’t stop thinking of how Teddy had betrayed me—lied to me. And well, I started imagining ways I could kill him. Not that I wanted to really kill him. I was just fantasizing.”

  “But you did kill him,” he reminded her.

  “Your brother has a point,” Marie agreed.

  “I switched over to gin, and then we all went to dinner. I didn’t eat much of my dinner. I just kept drinking.”

  “Then what?” he asked.

  “After dinner, everyone came back to the living room for after-dinner drinks and dessert. When everyone went to bed, I stayed in the living room—alone. I was there for…I don’t know how long…a while…when Teddy came downstairs to get me. By that time, I was pretty toasted. And…well…it was almost like an out-of-body experience. Where I am watching myself and Teddy. And I got angry. And then I remembered one of the ways I imagined killing him—by pushing him down the stairs and hiding him in that tunnel Danielle told us about. It seemed like the perfect place to hide a body. After all, Walt claimed it was locked up for good.”

  “So you just decided to kill him?” he asked.

  “It was just—so—detached. Like a dream. Sort of like I thought it was a dream. Haven’t you ever done that before? I have. When I’m having a dream, and sometime during the dream I realize none of it is real, so I do things I wouldn’t normally do because I know I will eventually wake up and it will have all been my imagination.”

  “While you were killing him, you thought it was a dream?” he asked.

  Polly nodded. “Exactly. I thought I was just acting out my fantasy in my dream. And then the next morning, when I woke up, I was surprised Teddy wasn’t in bed with me.”

  “When did you realize it hadn’t been a dream?”

  “Part of me knew…but another part of me didn’t believe it. I’m not sure you can understand.”

  “No, I really don’t,” he confessed.

  “But when they found his body, well, something inside me clicked. I knew then, it hadn’t been a dream. I killed my husband. I have to live with that, but I didn’t kill Phoebe. I promise you.”

  Albert sat there several minutes in silence, considering all that his sister had said. Finally he asked, “Is there
anything else you remember about that night?”

  “Yes. There is one other thing. I never mentioned it to anyone else before.”

  “What’s that?” Albert asked.

  “The basement at Marlow House is down a little back hallway, on the north side of the house. After I came up from the basement, I came face-to-face with Bentley.”

  “Bentley? Jackie’s assistant, the one who drowned?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. He seemed surprised to see me. I was pretty wobbly on my feet by that time. He assumed I had been heading up to our room but had gotten turned around and lost. He helped me upstairs, but he didn’t walk me all the way to my room. And then he went back downstairs. So I guess I might have been the last one to see Bentley alive.”

  Thirty-Five

  Marie hadn’t returned to Marlow House, and Danielle was dying of curiosity to find out what was going on at the police station. The remaining guests had all gone to their rooms, and Danielle sat with Walt in the parlor, trying to read a book, but she couldn’t focus. Curled up on the sofa with Max by her feet, she kept turning the pages forward and then flipping them back to where she had been, rereading the pages yet comprehending nothing.

  Walt, who sat across from her in a chair, holding an open newspaper, glanced up over the pages and looked at her. “You’re going to wear that book out.”

  Danielle peeked up at him and, with a sigh, closed the book and tossed it on the coffee table. “How can you read that paper? I keep trying to finish this book, but I can’t focus on what I read and keep having to go back and reread pages. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Walt closed the paper, folding it neatly before dropping it on the floor by his feet. “I’m doing no better than you. I haven’t read a single word.”

  “I wish Marie would get back here,” Danielle said. The next moment her cellphone rang. She picked it up and looked at it. It was Chris.